


The Witcher Files

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dresden Files -esque, M/M, Mob war, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Private Investigators, Slow Burn, instead of kings and queens we've got mobsters, past Geralt/Renfri, striga, witchers are like PIs for supernatural cases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: Geralt's in the middle of a missing persons case when he meets Jaskier, an excitable bartender and aspiring journalist. Geralt is determined to not give Jaskier the time of day, but he doesn't have a choice when Jaskier gets caught up in the middle of a mob war that's connected to Geralt's case.Tags to be added with updates.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a Modern AU with magic, and this is what I came up with.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

Geralt starts, quickly gathering the pages laid out in front of him back into their manilla folder. A page or two escapes, and he growls as he snatches them before the intruder can get a good look. The file finally safe from anyone’s eyes, Geralt looks up and glares at the man standing at the end of the booth. The man grins toothily and sits across from Geralt.

“What is that?”

Geralt doesn’t answer, continuing to glare at the stranger. After a moment, the smile on the man’s face flickers and he leans back, looking Geralt up and down.

“Wait, hold on. White hair, brooding personality, top secret file… You’re that witcher, Geralt of Rivia, aren’t you? The Butcher of Blaviken!”

Geralt scowls and wishes desperately he had his gun on him. The stranger’s grin returns in full force.

“So what’s the case, witcher?”

“Did you not just call it a ‘top secret file’?” Geralt asks, baffled.

The stranger shrugs. “Sure, but, like, what kind of case is it?”

Geralt hesitates. He gets the feeling that if he doesn’t tell this guy something he’s just going to keep bugging Geralt. After a moment of wrestling with himself, he says, “Missing person.”

“Why would that be a witcher’s job?” the stranger says.

“There are signs a monster was involved.”

The stranger’s eyes brighten. “Ooo, like claws marks at the crime scene or something?”

Geralt grunts. “Something like that.”

“Can I, like, apprentice under you or something?” the stranger asks excitedly. Geralt frowns at him.

“You’re not a witcher.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not what I mean, I mean I just want your--your stories.” The stranger’s eyes go wide with excitement. “I could repair your reputation, you know!”

“How, exactly, would you do that?” Geralt asks, not intrigued in the least. The stranger puffs out his chest.

“I’m a journalist,” he says. Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, and the man deflates slightly. “Well, okay, I’m an aspiring journalist. I’m a writer. Of all types. Poetry, prose, plays… like Shakespeare!”

Geralt’s lips twist into an amused smile. “You’re comparing yourself to the Bard?”

“Well, who doesn’t want to write like him?” The stranger gives Geralt a bright smile, and then suddenly thrusts his hand towards him for a handshake. “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Call me Jaskier.”

Geralt doesn’t take the man’s hand. After a beat, Jaskier lets it fall, pulling it back but not looking cowed in the least. “I’m the new bartender here.”

Geralt looks around at the bar he always sets up in when he’s sick of being holed up in his office slash apartment. He hadn’t noticed there was a new bartender, but he also tends to keep his head buried in his work.

“I thought you were a journalist. A writer.”

“Aspiring,” Jaskier corrects.

“Hm. I’d like a beer,” Geralt says, cracking the file open again just to get the point across that this conversation was now over. Jaskier jumps up and slaps the table lightly.

“Guiness, right?”

Geralt blinks up at Jaskier, a little taken aback. So the bartender had been paying attention to Geralt before now. Huh.

“Yes,” he says, turning back to the file.

“Back in two shakes of a rabbit’s tail,” Jaskier says, skipping off. Geralt looks up, watching the man rush over to the bar, completely befuddled at what had just happened. Usually people avoided Geralt at all costs. He was, after all, the Butcher of Blaviken. Scowling to himself, he opens the file and spreads the papers out on the table again. Hopefully this Jaskier guy will have gotten the memo and won’t bother him again.

* * *

“Have any leads yet?” Triss asks immediately when she opens the door. Geralt shakes his head.

“I’m just here to look at the girl’s room again.”

Triss’s face turns sour as she lets him inside. “Hopefully the cops haven’t messed with it too much.”

Geralt grunts. “Doubtful.”

“Are you sure you won’t help with Adda’s murder case as well?” Triss asks, following Geralt as he makes a beeline for the girl’s bedroom.

“She was killed by a human, months before her daughter went missing,” Geralt says, opening the bedroom door and looking around at the scene.

“What if they’re connected?” Triss pushes. Geralt sighs, looking at her.

“If I figure out they’re connected, I’ll pursue it. Until then, the murder is in the hands of the police.”

“Foltest is beside himself,” Triss continues. “And he is sure his wife’s death and his daughter’s disappearance are connected.”

“Foltest is a paranoid mob boss,” Geralt says, walking to the window where the, yes, claw marks, run ragged across the wood. “He thinks everything is connected. As his employee, you should know that by now.”

Triss sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “I know, I know. I just liked the girl, that’s all.”

Geralt runs a finger across one of the claw marks, humming to himself. The problem with claw marks as clues is they did little to differentiate themselves from other monsters’ claws. Claw marks were claw marks, and that was that. He glares around the room. It was fairly typical for a fourteen-year-old’s bedroom, except for the whole crime scene part. Books had been knocked out of their shelves, scattered across the floor. The bed sheets were torn and tossed every which way. A poster of some famous male celebrity had a slash right through the middle. There had to be some other clue somewhere in this mess.

Geralt walks closer to the bed and something pungent hits his nose. He shakes his head and sniffs, frowning. That was the smell of sex, and that smell definitely hadn’t been here the last time Geralt had been in this room. Wrinkling his nose, he turns back to Triss.

“Who’s been in here since I was last here?”

Triss looks curious. “Just the cops. Why? What did you smell?”

“Did Adda--the daughter, not the mother--have a boyfriend or anything like that?”

“No,” Triss says slowly. “Why? What did you smell, Geralt?”

“Someone’s jacked off in her bed,” Geralt says. “Are you sure only cops have been in here?”

“I was,” Triss says. “Until just now. Who would jack off in a kidnapped fourteen-year-old’s bed?”

“A pervert,” Geralt says, snatching one of the torn sheets and sniffing it again. He files the smell away for later--if he runs into the pervert later he should be able to recognize the scent.

“What now?” Triss asks, standing up straight again. Geralt sighs.

“It’s been days,” he says irritably. “There’s been no ransom note. These claw marks tell me nothing, and the smell of sex will only tell me so much if I haven’t met the jackass who did it. That leaves me with one choice.”

“What’s that?”

Geralt grimaces, drops the sheet, and meets Triss’s gaze with a sigh. “Yennefer.”

* * *

Yennefer looks like she’d been in the middle of a spell when she opens her front door. Her eyes are bright and slightly crazed, and her hair is about as mussed up as it ever gets. If she looks annoyed at being interrupted, she looks even more annoyed when she realizes who it is that interrupted her.

“What do you want?”

Geralt bites the inside of his mouth. “I need your help.”

“How much does it pay?”

“Well, Foltest is paying so… a lot.”

Yennefer glares at him for a moment longer. “This about his daughter, Adda?”

Geralt nods. “Yes. Some _ thing _ took her. I can’t figure out what it is.”

Yennefer smirks and steps aside, letting him in. Geralt relaxes slightly--he really had expected her to dismiss him--and walks inside. He glances around the familiar house he'd practically lived in until recently, so much nicer than his dinky little apartment, and then turns back to Yennefer who’s closed the door and is still smirking at him.

“Care for something to drink?” she asks, turning to the kitchen. Geralt follows her.

“Uh--no. Thank you.” He didn’t trust any food or drink from her and never had. Maybe that had been part of their problem as a couple. She was a freelance sorceress, which was unnerving by itself, but she was also completely self-serving and ready to destroy anyone who got in her way. Or if they annoyed her too much. Geralt had spent the entire relationship sleeping with one eye open.

Yennefer chuckles as if she knows exactly what Geralt is thinking and pulls out a pitcher of apple juice from her fridge, pouring herself a glass. She tips it in a silent, sarcastic toast at Geralt before taking a drink.

“You haven’t heard about the deaths in Blaviken, have you?”

Geralt grinds his teeth. “You know I haven’t. I avoid Blaviken at all costs.”

Yennefer waves a hand at him dismissively. “I know, I know. You should pay more attention, though. It’s a hot spot for monsters.”

“What’s your point, Yen?” Geralt growls, hands curling into fists by his side. This had been a bad idea. Yennefer smirks again.

“The deaths started right after your mob princess disappeared. And I’ll bet you anything--”

“They’re connected,” Geralt finishes for her with a deep sigh. This meant a trip to Blaviken. Because of course it did.

Yennefer nods. “You willing to get over it for a job?”

“One that pays this well?” Geralt points out. “Yeah. Thanks for the information, Yen.” He starts for the door, but she calls after him.

“I expect my ten percent as soon as the job’s finished.”

Geralt turns and glares at her. “You didn’t do anything.”

Yennefer shrugs, taking another drink of her apple juice. “I gave you valuable information.”

“Which I could’ve gotten anywhere. You’re not getting paid until I need your magic.”

Yennefer sighs, rolling her eyes, and sets her glass down. “Fine. But don’t expect me to give you information again.”

“Whatever,” Geralt says, walking towards the door. “I’ll see myself out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trips to Blaviken and to see Foltest himself prove to be fruitful.

Geralt is disappointed but not surprised when he’s turned away at the coroner's office in Blaviken. The employee at the front desk takes one look at him, eyes lingering on the distinctive white hair, and all but throws him out. Geralt leaves without complaint and finds a dark alleyway with a corner he can meditate in until the office closes and he can break in.

Once finally inside, he finds the files for the murder cases easily and reads through them one by one without haste. Each victim, he finds, is missing two vital organs: the heart and the liver. He sighs, closing his eyes. A striga. Adda hadn’t been taken by a monster. She’d been turned into a monster. And that made things infinitely more complicated.

Growling to himself, Geralt shoves the files back in their cabinet drawers and heads for the door like he’s on a warpath. The clicking of someone trying to pick the door lock stops him dead in his tracks, and he sniffs the air, pulling out his gun. Male. Lower twenties. Sweating despite the cool night air. And the smell of beer. Sonuvabitch, it wasn’t some drunk kid trying to break in, was it?

Geralt throws the door open, yanks the kid inside, slamming him up against the wall, aiming to scare the kid straight. He recognizes the blue eyes blinking frantically at him, though, and snarls.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier cries, going from piss-your-pants terrified to far too excited in a split second. He pats the arm pressing him up against the wall and smiles. “You can let me go now.”

Geralt pulls back slightly before slamming Jaskier against the wall again. “What,” he says through gritted teeth, “the  _ hell _ are you doing here?”

Jaskier shrugs. “Following a lead. What are you doing here? I thought your case was a missing person, not a murder.”

“What lead?” Geralt seethes.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been a string of killings in the past couple days,” Jaskier says easily. “Started up real sudden. Thought I’d get a headstart on the story, you know?”

“I thought you were an ‘aspiring’ journalist,” Geralt says, loosening his grip ever so slightly. Jaskier flashes him a grin.

“Sure, but I gotta catch a break somewhere, right? Some big story to put my name out there--”

“You don’t want this story,” Geralt says, letting the kid go. Jaskier plucks at his shirt like he’s worried Geralt’s mussed it up too much.

“Why not?”

Geralt grumbles. “Foltest’s involved.”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Foltest of Timeria? Uh, you’re wrong, I definitely want this story. Big mob boss involved with a bunch of killings in Blaviken? Fuck yes.” He makes his way past Geralt, but Geralt grabs him by the collar and drags him back.

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he says. Jaskier stops and frowns at Geralt. Geralt scowls--for some reason it feels like this kid can read him like a book. Only two people have been able to read him easily before now, and one of those people was a fucking mage.

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Jaskier says slowly. “The killings are related to your missing person, isn’t it?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “You don’t want to get involved, bard.”

Jaskier looks thrown for a moment, then grins. “If you tell me the story, I’ll let it go.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow, assessing the kid for a moment. “No you won’t,” he decides. Jaskier laughs.

“Okay, you’re right, but c’mon! I probably will have no idea how to read what happened with those bodies, but you’ve already got it figured out! Please?”

Geralt grabs Jaskier by the collar again and shoves him toward the door. “I said no. Go home.”

Jaskier huffs, going with the push easily and exiting the building. “You’re no fun. How am I supposed to get published if I can’t get a story?”

“Maybe start with something smaller, like a puppy hero or something,” Geralt says off-handedly, following the kid outside and locking the door behind them.

“Yeah, like that’ll get me anywhere,” Jaskier mutters, but Geralt ignores him and instead gives him another shove.

“Go home.”

Jaskier stumbles with the shove and gives Geralt a withering look. Geralt returns the glare until the kid turns away and trudges off. Even after he’s disappeared down another street, Geralt doesn’t realize he’s already given the kid a nickname.

* * *

“Where’s Foltest?” Geralt demands the next day, storming into the house. Triss scrambles after him.

“He’s in a meeting. What did you find?”

“Adda wasn’t taken,” Geralt says, allowing himself to be pulled to a stop by Triss’s gentle hand. “She was turned into a monster by a curse.”

“A curse?” Triss echoes, looking properly concerned unlike that Jaskier kid.

“I need a list of Foltest’s enemies.”

Triss sighs. “As you so eloquently put it yesterday, he’s a ‘paranoid mob boss’. It’d be shorter to give you a list of people who aren’t his enemies.”

Geralt shakes his head. “No, a curse like this is going to be for personal reasons. It requires the mother’s death.”

Triss’s eyes go wide. “So the cases are connected!”

“Yes,” Geralt says irritably. “Now, where is Foltest? I need to ask him who would have motive for a personal attack like this.”

“He’s in a meeting,” Triss repeats, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “In… in his study. You’ll need to wait.”

“She’s killing people, Triss,” Geralt says, shaking his head and pushing past her to find the study. “There is no waiting at this point.”  _ There _ . Geralt can hear voices behind the door at the end of the hallway. That had to be the study.

Triss is in front of him in a flash, a hand out to stop him. “He’s in there with Detective Ostrit. You can’t interrupt.”

Geralt pauses. “Did the police find something?”

Triss winces. “No, Ostrit… is on the payroll.”

Geralt growls. “Of course he is.”

“Neither of them will be happy if you barge in there and make it obvious you know that.”

Geralt shakes his head. “I don’t care.” With one final push, Geralt storms through the door, glaring at the two men inside. Foltest sits behind a large ornate desk, merely raising an eyebrow at the intrusion, but Ostrit, who was sitting in a chair across from Foltest, jumps to his feet, looking outraged.

“Witcher! How dare--”

“Someone cursed your daughter,” Geralt says to Foltest, ignoring Ostrit completely as he steps past him. The smell hits him as he takes a breath to continue, stopping the words on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t look Ostrit, instead clenches his jaw against the stench, and revises his plan.

“I need a list of enemies,” Geralt says, attention still on Foltest. “And the grievances between you and each of them. This was likely a political attack.”

Foltest nods and gestures at Triss, who’s standing in the doorway. “Miss Merigold will help you.”

Geralt nods sharply and backs out of the study. Triss closes the door quietly behind them, looking at Geralt curiously.

“I thought you said it was personal,” she says softly.

“Ostrit was the one in Adda’s bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I am taking some liberties with how strigas work...
> 
> Next chapter we meet Roach and find out just how much attention Jaskier has been paying Geralt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn where Ostrit got the curse. Jaskier asks about the Butcher of Blaviken story.

Geralt would be lying if he didn’t enjoy playing dramatic every once and a while. Like right now: he had snatched Detective Ostrit as he was leaving Foltest’s house, knocking him out with chloroform, and brought him here. The mostly empty storage unit Geralt kept for situations just like this. He just found it easier to get information from certain people when they were in an unfamiliar setting, in the dark, unsure of how they got there. And as Geralt waited patiently for the man to wake up, he stood in a dark corner, watching.

Slowly, Ostrit came to. Once the fact he was tied to a chair sank in, he looked around the immediate area wildly, eyes only landing on Geralt when the witcher took a step closer.

“Witcher!” the detective hissed. “I’ll have you arrested for this! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Tell me,” Geralt said calmly, picking at a spot of dirt under one of his nails. “Why the daughter? I assume you killed the mother because you… what? Had a crush on her?”

“I  _ loved _ Adda,” Ostrit seethes. “And I did nothing to either of them, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I smelled you in the daughter’s bedroom,” Geralt says, and when Ostrit opens his mouth to protest, he continues, taking another step closer. “And I smelled what you were doing.”

Ostrit’s mouth snaps shut, his jaw clenching. Geralt steps back. “So you’re going to explain yourself. Either to me or to Foltest himself.”

“Foltest won’t believe you,” Ostrit says quickly. “He knows I’m loyal.”

“When Triss Merigold testifies against you, who do you think he’ll believe?” Geralt interrupts. Ostrit again shuts up at that. They both know Geralt has a point: Triss is known throughout the city as one of the most honest mages. It was why Foltest had sought after her services in the first place, those years ago.

“Again. You’re going to explain why you killed Adda, the mother, and why you cursed Adda, the daughter. Or I’ll let Foltest do it.”

“You’re going to hand me over to Foltest anyway--”

“I imagine his form of questioning will be much less comfortable,” Geralt says impatiently. Ostrit scowls darkly, but he must see Geralt’s logic because eventually he sighs irritably.

“I loved Adda--the mother--long before she married Foltest. We were childhood friends. If Foltest hadn’t poisoned her mind, we would’ve been married, but that gangster swooped in and just… just…”

“Why kill her?”

“If she couldn’t be mine…”

Geralt scowls. “Why bring the daughter into it?”

“With Adda gone, I found myself noticing her daughter suddenly. She looked just like her mother, back when we were kids and I first fell in love with her.”

“So you thought you’d get rid of her just like you got rid of her mother,” Geralt finishes. Melitite, sometimes he really hated people. “Fine. But where’d you get the curse?”

“A mage gave it to me,” Ostrit says. “She approached me. Told me she knew what had happened with Adda and that she could help me with the daughter. I didn’t know what the curse was going to do, I swear!”

Geralt scowls. “That doesn’t make it better, Detective. Who was the mage?”

“Her name was Fringilla.”

“She freelance? Or is she someone’s employee?”

Ostrit shakes his head. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me anything about herself. And we only met the one time. I tried reaching out to her once I’d realized what the curse had done, but I never heard back.”

“Once you realized what the curse had done?”

“Turned her into a monster!” Ostrit cries. “That lovely girl is no monster, I would’ve never--”

But Geralt had heard enough. With a solid right hook, he knocked the detective out again, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Yennefer answered on the second ring.

“You ready to earn your ten percent?”

“You know, the only reason why that rate has been so low is because we were dating,” Yennefer says casually. “I’m going to have to rethink how much I charge you.”

“Do you want your cut or not, Yen?” Geralt asks between gritted teeth.

“You found the monster, I take it?”

“The girl was turned into a striga.”

Yennefer sighs. “Where’s the mother buried?”

“Triss says she’s in a crypt in the city graveyard.”

“How fun for you. And the girl is all the way in Blaviken so you need me to portal the two of you to the crypt. Who cursed her?”

“That’s unimportant,” Geralt says dismissively. “What is important is the fact he got the curse from a mage. Sorceress by the name of Fringilla?”

There’s a pause on the line and then Yennefer curses. “Shit.”

“I take it you know her.”

“We were in the same class at Aretuza,” Yennefer says. “Now she’s Cahir’s mage.”

“Cahir from Nilfgaard?”

“That’s the one.”

“Fuck.” Geralt rubs roughly at the bridge of his nose. A migraine is starting to form. “They’ve been talking big about starting a war for a long time.”

“And it looks like they’re finally making their move.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, and then Yennefer speaks again, her voice suddenly gentle. “You’ll want to tell Foltest about his daughter and what you’re going to have to do. I doubt he’d be pleased to find out you’ve destroyed his wife’s crypt after the fact.”

* * *

The migraine is in full bloom by the time Geralt makes his way back to his apartment which is why when he sees Jaskier waiting outside his front door the witcher nearly turns on his heel and runs. But the kid notices Geralt immediately and there’s no getting away now.

“Geralt!” he calls, brightening. He’d looked like he was nearly asleep at first glance, and Geralt wonders how long the kid’s been waiting. Geralt scowls at him and pushes past to unlock his door.

“Stalking me now, bard?”

“This is your office, isn’t it?” Jaskier says. “It’s in the yellow pages.”

Geralt has to admit the kid has a point, but he’s not going to say that outloud. “What do you want?”

“Well, okay, don’t kill me, but I went back to the morgue after you left,” Jaskier says, and Geralt turns on him with a growl. Jaskier throws his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t get caught, and I have no idea what anything I found means so we’re good!”

Geralt hums and turns away, throwing his keys on his desk before walking around it to look out the window. For the second night in a row, he’s going to have to go to Blaviken. If he believed in the gods, he’d think they had it out for him.

“So, after realizing that I wasn’t going to get anything out of that story, I decided to look into another story,” Jaskier continues, not noticing Geralt had stopped paying attention. “I decided to look into the story of Renfri Black.”

The name yanks Geralt back into the present, and he very deliberately does not turn to look at the kid. Instead, his eyes slide over to the bookshelf to his right--facing Jaskier, dammit--where the picture of Renfri, eyes bright and in the midst of laughter, sits.

“Careful,” Geralt warns darkly. The excited prattle from Jaskier stops, and suddenly he’s speaking at a normal human pace.

“I couldn’t find much beyond the story everyone knows, but, after meeting you, I imagine there’s more to it.” The kid pauses, and then asks gently, “Will you tell me?”

Geralt hums. “No.”

“I understand a wizard was hunting Renfri. Did it have something to do with that?”

Geralt doesn’t answer, but Jaskier continues anyway.

“There’s a rumor you were involved with her,” he says, speed picking up. “Is that true?”

Geralt spins to face Jaskier, letting out a loud whistle at the same time. A massive bear of a dog comes hurtling out of the rest of the apartment, and Jaskier lets out a squawk.

“Melitite!” he cries, scrambling backwards out the still open door. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”

Geralt watches as the kid turns tail and runs to the stairs, disappearing out of sight. With a sigh, he walks back around the desk, and gives the dog a friendly scritch behind the ears as he closes the door.

“Good girl, Roach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @ loralielo

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the relationship between Geralt and Yen is super antagonistic right now, but I promise that will change as they learn to forgive each other.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ loralielo


End file.
